Ancient Runes in the Modern World
by silvernatasha
Summary: Sixth year continues in the sequel to 'The Importance of Ancient Runes'. Of course, nothing ever runs smoothly, especially when you're at Hogwarts. The Sorting Hat wanted unity between the houses - this probably is not what it had in mind.
1. In Which Eveybody Takes a Trip to Hogsme

**Disclaimer:** _This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._  
**Author's Note:** _Well, here it is: the sequel. Obviously, if you haven't read 'The Importance of Ancient Runes' you might not know what's going on. From the reviews of the last chapter, some people were confused about where the dream started/ended and I apologise for not making it clear. It_ was _only the scene by the Great Hall at the end that Blaise dreamt. Now, on with the show..._  
**Dedicated to:** _Tamlane. Who else?_ :)

* * *

**ANCIENT RUNES IN THE MODERN WORLD  
Chapter One: In Which Everyone Takes a Trip to Hogsmeade**

* * *

Pansy slumped into the seat next to Blaise with a loud, dramatic sigh. Blaise closed his diary quickly, aware that the Slytherin Prefect was already trying to take a glimpse at what he had written.

"Something the matter, Pansy?" Blaise asked, quirking an eyebrow.

She shrugged, avoiding eye contact with him and instead choosing to stare at the leather cover of his diary. She had given it to him for Christmas, along with new quills and ink. "What are you writing about?"

"Nothing in particular."

"Not your Valentine?"

"My what?"

"Valentine," she said with a sly smile. "You _do _know what day it is tomorrow, don't you?" Blaise glanced quickly at the bunch of bright pink balloons that had been attached to one of the armchairs on the other side of the common room. A vase of pink carnations was sitting on the side table.

"Yes," he said resignedly. Of course he knew. How could he miss it? Valentines Day. "I don't have a Valentine," he added.

Pansy looked sceptical. "Really?"

Blaise decided that he would try to change the subject. "What about you? Got something planned with lover boy?" She scowled.

"Gryffindors," she said decisively, "are more trouble than they're worth."

For a moment, Blaise said nothing. Then, in a low voice, "You and Weasley had a fight?"

She sighed again. "Something like that." Pansy went to tug his diary from his hands and Blaise moved it out of her reach, glaring at her. She grinned.

"What've you been fighting about?"

Raising her eyebrows, Pansy said, "Surely it's not too much to ask for a boyfriend to spend time with his girlfriend." She lowered her voice to a whisper, hoping that none of the other Slytherins would hear their conversation. "He's been spending all his time with Potter and Granger lately and I'm starting to feel a bit neglected." She eyed Blaise carefully. "Speaking of them, when are you going to make a move on my boyfriend's best friend?"

"Potter's not really my type," Blaise said with a yawn.

"That's _not_ the friend I was on about," Pansy hissed and Blaise yawned again. "Are you all right?" she asked, sounding concerned. "You've been yawning all day."

Millicent sat down heavily on the footstool. "He's probably been _up_ all night thinking about his lady love." She winked at Blaise and he could feel his face reddening. The cheek of it.

Pansy pulled a face. "Thanks, Millicent. That's not a vision I wanted."

"I'm just tired," Blaise protested. He did not want Millicent and Pansy thinking about him in _that_ sort of situation. He stood up, towering over the two girls. "I'm going for a walk."

"Need any company?" Millicent asked. "I've just had to sit through McGonagall droning on for an hour and a half." Blaise shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

He tucked his diary and quill into his bag, hefting it up onto his shoulder. As he and Millicent walked up the stairs from the dungeons, he said, "Do you think I'm being an idiot?"

"No." She did not even have to ask what about.

"Really?"

"Really. I think you're being sensible." Millicent pushed her hair over her shoulder. "Just because Pansy and her plaything can make it work doesn't mean that everyone can."

"Does she know you call him that?"

Millicent did not reply and instead dug her hands into the pockets of her robes. They walked in silence, stepping into the Entrance Hall a few minutes later. "Do you know about my parents?"

Blaise thought for a moment. "Which ones?"

Her lips twisted into a small smile. "The real ones." She sighed. "It's not exactly common knowledge, but John Bulstrode isn't my biological father."

"He just married your mother when she was pregnant with you."

"Because my real father died. Exactly. Mum and Dad were best friends and they did it to keep up appearances. I know that they're in love now, but they weren't then."

Blinking, Blaise said, "And what exactly does this have to do with me?"

"My real father was a Gryffindor."

"He what?" This was news to Blaise and he stopped walking. However, Millicent continued outside into the courtyard. It took a couple of moments for this news to sink in and Blaise had to stride quickly to keep up with the Slytherin girl. "What? Are you saying that all Gryffindor-Slytherin relationships are doomed?"

"No," Millicent said patiently. "I'm saying that who knows what would have happened if he hadn't died? I could be in Gryffindor for all I know!" She frowned. "What I'm _trying_ to say is that your house shouldn't matter."

"But it does," Blaise said. "It always matters."

Millicent bowed her head, moving to sit on a bench. "You shouldn't let it."

Blaise looked curiously at her for a moment before sliding onto the bench next to Millicent. "Who is he?" he asked.

A couple of passing Ravenclaws gave them a dirty look as they walked by and Blaise gave them a defiant glare.

"Do you promise you won't tell anyone?" Millicent asked.

"You sound like Pansy when she told me about," a small group of Gryffindors walked past chattering loudly and Blaise lowered his voice, "_you know_."

"_Blaise_," she warned. "Promise me you won't tell anyone."

"I promise."

She looked sheepish. "Ernie," she whispered. It took a few moments of flipping through his internal filing system to recognise the name.

"McMillan?" he asked. "The Hufflepuff prefect?"

"What can I say?" she said flippantly. "I love authority figures." She grinned. "He's asked me to meet him in Hogsmeade this weekend."

"Are you going to?"

"I think so. We shall see." She raised her eyebrows. "Are you meeting anyone in particular?"

Blaise scowled. "I take it that by 'anyone in particular' you mean 'Granger'?"

"Of course."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"Just because."

* * *

"Are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" Ginny Weasley asked, looking up when Hermione took a seat opposite her. She had been studying in the Library for nearly an hour and the words on the page were staring to swim before her eyes. Hermione's arrival was a welcome distraction.

"I think I need a couple new bottles of ink," Hermione said. "So it looks like I'll have to go." She looked hopefully at Ginny. "Unless you could pick some up for me?"

"Sorry. I'm planning on some serious lip action with Alex."

"Alex? Won't Dean mind?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Hermione. I broke up with him last week."

Hermione was actually surprised by this. "Oh. Actually, I didn't know. Sorry." She opened the heavy book that she had put down on the desk, the contents page row upon row of tiny letters. "You've moved on to someone else already? Alex, did you say?"

"Yeah. He's a Ravenclaw." A blush flooded Ginny's cheeks. "It was kind of _before_, actually."

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, aghast at the idea of Ginny cheating on Dean. "Did Dean know?"

"Of course not," Ginny scorned. "Anyway, I was the one who dumped him."

Hermione sighed. "I'm never going to understand you," she announced, scanning the list of contents.

"And I'm never going to understand you," Ginny agreed.

"So you're not going to get my ink?" Hermione asked, frowning. Ginny shook her head and Hermione shrugged. "It looks like I'll have to go to Hogsmeade, then."

Someone cleared their throat behind them and both Gryffindors looked up. Ginny grinned when she saw Justin Finch-Fletchley standing there. She made a show of looking at her watch. "My, look at the time. I told Luna I would help her with her Transfiguration."

The youngest Weasley quickly collected up her belongings, giving Hermione a quick squeeze on the shoulder as she brushed past. Hermione scowled, and then turned back to Justin.

"Hello, Justin," she said dryly. She had seen him sitting a couple of table away when she had entered the Library. She thought that avoiding him and sitting with Ginny would be the safest option. Apparently not.

She had tried her best to avoid him ever since New Years Eve, only putting up with him in Ancient Runes because she had very little choice in a class so small. "Hey, Hermione," he said, smiling. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation."

I bet you couldn't, she thought. _You were probably listening from the moment I opened my mouth._ "And?"

she thought. "And?" 

"Well, I was planning on going to Hogsmeade tomorrow to get some parchment and seeing as you need some ink…"

"You'll get it for me?" Hermione asked, relieved. It would certainly save her a trip into the village if the Hufflepuff could get it for him.

He looked uncomfortable. "Actually, I was thinking that you might want to walk down with me. But, sure, I suppose I can pick up some ink if you want me to." Justin looked severely disappointed and Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for the Hufflepuff.

"Oh. That would be good," she said weakly. "I could probably use the company." _What am I doing?_ she asked herself. _Take it back! Say no! No! No! No!_

Justin grinned. "That's great. I'll meet you tomorrow morning in the Entrance Hall. Is ten o'clock alright for you?"

Nodding, Hermione said, "Sure. That'll be fine."

"Okay. Bye!"

When she was sure that he was out of view, Hermione slammed her head on her book in annoyance. _Ow. Also, I am an idiot. It's official. Hermione Granger, idiot extraordinaire._

* * *

After a cat-like yawn, Blaise apologised. Millicent rolled her eyes. "If you're that tired," she said, "why don't you go to bed?"

"Because it's only eight o'clock," Blaise said, rubbing his eye.

"Does that matter?" Daphne asked. "You look exhausted."

"I am," he agreed, wincing slightly as a pack of Exploding Snap cards that were sat on the table next to him did what they were designed to do.

Delilah, Pansy's cat, leapt onto Blaise's lap and he gave a hiss of annoyance. Tail up in the air, she clambered over Blaise and onto her owner. Pansy smiled, rubbing Delilah behind the ears. "Hello, darling," she cooed, "how're you?"

"Do you talk to lover boy like that?" Millicent asked with a slight sneer. Pansy sniffed indignantly.

"Delilah's my baby and I shall talk to her however I want."

"Your baby?" asked Blaise. "I don't want to know who the father is if that's the offspring."

Pansy scowled. "Shut up, Blaise."

"Is that the best comeback you can think of?" he said, trying to stave off a yawn. The cards exploded again and Blaise briefly considered throwing them into the fireplace. Granted, the fire was not alight, but it was the thought that counted in his opinion.

She didn't reply, instead continuing to stroke Delilah's white fur.

"Are you coming to Hogsmeade with us tomorrow?" asked Daphne, who was chewing on a piece of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

"If I must," said Blaise.

"Yes, you must," said Millicent. "We need you to help disguise the fact that Pansy's going to sneak off to be with lover boy."

"Stop calling him that," Pansy protested. Delilah hissed.

Millicent arched an eyebrow. "Would you rather that we referred to him by name for everyone to hear?" Pansy's eyes widened and she quickly shook her head. "Exactly."

"By 'disguise'," said Blaise, "I sincerely hope that you don't intend for me to dress up."

"Nope," said Daphne with a grin.

"Good," Blaise said with a sigh. He cast a sideways glance at Pansy. "Your shoes are too big for me anyway."

Pansy's face was a picture of fury. "Hey! My feet aren't _that_ big!"

"They're bigger than mine," said Millicent. "Mine are quite large."

"You're not helping." Pansy glared at Millicent.

Once again, Blaise yawned. "I think I might go to bed," he said, "before the catfight begins." Delilah raised her head at this.

"Night night Blaisiekins," Millicent said, also fighting a yawn. "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

Stepping into his dormitory, Blaise nearly tripped over a pair of Theodore's shoes. He swore in Italian, kicking them to one side. One of them landed on top of Draco's Quidditch robes. From what he could tell, Draco was attempting to persuade Professor Snape that he should be allowed back on the Quidditch team. Blaise had a suspicion that this was due to the upcoming match against Gryffindor.

He shrugged off his robes, putting them on a coat hanger before hanging his clothes in his wardrobe. As he put his shirt into the basket to be washed, he noticed a snag on the elbow. Blaise made a mental note to get it repaired as soon as possible. After all, as clearly stated in the Slytherin code of conduct, a stitch in time saves money on tailoring costs.

There was no one else around. He had seen Theodore leave the common room earlier, the books under his arm suggesting that he was bound for the library. Crabbe and Goyle had been playing Gobstones in the common room. As for Malfoy, well, he was not even worth a second thought.

Blaise's favourite pyjamas were about three years old, far too short in the legs and the seam under the left arm had split more than once, but Blaise refused to throw them away. Sentimental value and all that. Besides, they were probably the most comfortable item of clothing he owned.

The lights in the dormitory faded as he peeled back the bed covers. Okay, so he was more than tired. He was exhausted and his eyes shut tight as soon as his head hit the pillow. If only he did not have to go shopping with the girls tomorrow.

_Why did I agree to go?_ His thoughts felt blurry_. I obviously have too much time on my hands._

* * *

Daphne Greengrass peered at her reflection in the mirror that hung above the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. "Do you think I should tie my hair up?" she asked.

Sitting in an armchair, handbag on her lap, Pansy said, "No. You've already spent an hour doing your hair this morning, Daffy."

"It looks fine," Millicent assured her, not even looking up from the copy of _Witch Weekly_ that she was reading. Daphne tugged again on a lock of blonde hair.

"But are you _sure_?" she asked, wringing her hands.

"Yes," Pansy snapped. She looked at her watch. "Are you sure Zabini said he was coming?" she asked with a sigh. "We're going to be late."

"Late?" Millicent asked with a sly grin. "Planning on meeting someone?"

The Slytherin prefect scowled. "You know bloody well I am."

"You're even starting to sound like him," Millicent said airily.

"I am not!" She let out a growl and cast a glance at the door that led to the boy's dormitories. "I'm going to go and find Blaise," she announced heading towards the door.

Daphne gasped. "But that's the _boys_ dormitory," she said fearfully.

"What's the matter with that?" Pansy asked. "It's not as though there's magic to keep me from going in there." She sniffed. "Besides, I am a Slytherin prefect and I am concerned for the welfare of a fellow student." Pansy pushed out her chest proudly. "It is my duty, nay, my _right_ to go in there."

Millicent rolled her eyes. "That's enough theatrics for one day, Pansy."

"But there might be boys in there," Daphne said. "And they might be _naked_." Her eyes were wide.

Pansy and Millicent exchanged a look. "I'm not entirely sure what the problem is, are you Millie?" Pansy asked. Millicent shook her head.

"Daphne brings up a very good point, though," she said. "I might have to accompany you, Pansy. You know, to save you from all the evil naked men in there."

"My saviour!" Pansy swooned as Millicent stood up and followed her in the corridor. She burst into giggles as the door shut behind them. "Bless," she said with a smile. "She can be so innocent sometimes."

"Only sometimes," Millicent agreed, wrinkling her nose and thinking of several occasions on which Daphne had been anything but innocent. "It smells a bit, doesn't it?" Pansy nodded, knocking on the door of the sixth year's boys dormitory.

Waiting a few moments, Pansy knocked again.

"Blaise, get your lazy arse out here _now_!" Millicent called, hoping to rouse him.

The door next to Blaise's dormitory which, oddly enough, read 'Third Years' opened and a small boy with red hair looked fearfully at the two older girls. "I don't think there's anyone in there. I went in earlier to see Mr Malfoy," Millicent giggled at this, "and he was the only one in there. Him and that cat."

"Which cat?" Pansy asked and the boy nodded at a black cat that was curled up on the other side of the corridor, evidently asleep. "Must be Nott's," she said to Millicent.

"Nott has a cat?" Millicent asked. Pansy shrugged.

"Must do." She looked at it and said, "Yeah, now I come to think of it, it looks familiar. I think Delilah was chasing it the other day."

Millicent shook her head in amusement. "Your cat is mad," she remarked. "It'll chase anything that moves."

Shrugging, Pansy said, "It doesn't even have to be moving."

* * *

Hermione checked her reflection in one of Filch's shining suits of armour. Justin was late and she was starting to grow impatient. She adjusted her scarf, a Christmas present from her grandmother. It was pale pink and she thought that it made her cheeks look too red, but wore it anyway so that she could at least tell her grandmother honestly how warm it was.

Strolling into the Entrance Hall with Ernie McMillan at his side, Justin did not even seem to notice that it was now ten past.

"Morning, Hermione," he said brightly. "Ernie's going to walk down to the village with us. Is that alright?"

Hermione was actually rather glad about this. She did not want to be left alone with Justin for extended periods and she nodded in response.

As they walked down to Hogsmeade, Ernie and Justin talked about Quidditch and the mysterious girl that Ernie was supposed to be meeting in Hogsmeade. "He won't tell me who she is," Justin explained to Hermione. Hermione shoved her hands in her pockets - she had forgotten her gloves.

"That's because I don't think it's any of your business," Ernie pointed out.

"He's entitled to his secrets," Hermione said diplomatically and wondering where Crookshanks was.

Justin shrugged. "Anyone would think he was ashamed of her, that's all."

"I'm not ashamed of her," Ernie said bitterly. "I just don't want to tall you who she is."

"Don't start fighting," Hermione said and realising that she had not seen Crookshanks in several days.

Justin's arm was touching hers as they walked and the conversation between the two Hufflepuffs quickly returned to Quidditch. As they passed the Hogsmeade sign, his arm linked with hers and she inwardly winced but tried not to show any emotion apart from a small smile.

Just ignore him, she told herself. _He's just a Hufflepuff, not some Skrewt. He won't hurt you._

she told herself. 

Outside Honeydukes', Hermione spotted the three Slytherin girls. Millicent and Daphne were staring in the window, Daphne's mouth moving in excited speech.

"I could do with some chocolate," Ernie announced suddenly.

Justin frowned. "It'll be packed in there this time of day. Can't you wait until later?"

"No." Ernie was particularly firm about this and proceeded to drag Hermione and Justin over to the sweet shop. Ernie looked at the door. "It looks like there are a lot of people in there," he said, far louder than Hermione was sure was necessary. "Why don't you wait outside?"

"Fine," Justin said with a roll of his eyes. He turned to Hermione. "You don't mind, do you?"

She shook her head. "No, not really."

A couple of moments after Ernie went into Honeydukes', Hermione saw Daphne and Millicent exchange a look and then Millicent went into the shop.

Interesting, Hermione thought. _Is Millicent the mystery girl?_

, Hermione thought. 

"Granger." Pansy Parkinson looked like a snow queen in her white cloak and hat.

"Parkinson," Hermione replied cordially.

"Can I have a word?" Her dark eyes flickered to Justin. "Privately."

Hermione apologised to Justin and followed Pansy a little way off to the left, stepping around a couple who were caught up in the romantic mood of the village. "I like your scarf," Pansy said.

"You brought me over here to compliment me?" Hermione asked.

Pansy shook her head. "Actually, I wanted to know if you've seen Blaise."

"Why?"

"He'd already gone by the time we called for him this morning."

"I haven't seen him," Hermione said truthfully. She really had not, not since the last Ancient Runes lesson, at any rate.

"Oh." The Slytherin girl seemed slightly confused. "Thanks, Granger."

"That's alright. He's probably just found a new supply of coffee and is busy drowning himself in it."

"Either that or the prat's gone for another swim in the lake and got frostbite," Pansy said with a grin. "Thanks anyway."

Hermione nodded. "No problem."

* * *

Seamus peered at Hermione's parchment. "D'you understand any of this?" he asked in a whisper.

"Just about," replied Hermione as she finished copying down her verb table.

Troll. What one would imagine to be a 'dead easy' language (as Seamus put it), was actually more complex than it first appeared.

"Can I borrow your notes later? Because this isn't making any sense to me."

"Sure," she agreed, not really listening.

"Really?" Seamus grinned. "Hey, what are you planning to do next year?"

"Pardon?" she looked up at him, jogging her quill across her parchment. She frowned, reaching for her wand to clean it up.

"Next year," he prodded. "Which languages are you going to concentrate on?" As part of their seventh year studies, the students in the Modern and Magical Languages class were required to choose a family of languages to focus their study on.

She gave a slight shrug, aware of Daphne watching her. The blonde Slytherin was chewing on her lip, blue eyes focused on Hermione rather than her work. "Haven't decided yet. You?"

Seamus added a final flourish to his sketch of a troll. With a wry grin, he said, "I'm rather partial to the Celtic languages. I might do Germanic, though, like Greengrass."

"We don't have to decide until May, though," said Hermione. Daphne seemed to be mouthing something to her. Her brow furrowed in puzzlement and she gave Daphne a look as though to say "What?"

Daphne reached for a piece of parchment and, a minute later, a paper swan flitted its way over to Hermione's desk. Seamus looked at Hermione quizzically, but she ignored him.

I need to speak to you.

XXX  
Daphne.

Her handwriting was what Hermione would describe as 'flowery', and she turned her 'O's into smiley faces.

"What's up with Greengrass?" asked Seamus in a low voice.

"Nothing," said Hermione dismissively. "She's just strange like that."

After the lesson, Daphne yanked Hermione aside in the corridor. "Ow," said Hermione rubbing her elbow. "There's no need to be so rough."

"Sorry," Daphne apologised with wide eyes. "I just thought you should know."

"Know what?" She was genuinely confused.

Daphne bit her lip. "Blaise is missing. No one's seen him since Friday night."

* * *

**Thank Yous:** _Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter seven of 'The Importance of Ancient Runes': **Artemis1000, kendra is cheese, Novemberkind, Raquel, Ophelia Eternal, KateM, Kerrie-chan, ShimmeringEvil, Sweet Tension, mydream, Thiralin, narmolanya, CrimsonEnchantress, slytherinphoenix7, Hi Im Crazy, imogenhm, JeanB, stinky-chan, funky-faerie87, Tiamante Salazar Tameran** and **Procella Nox-noctis** as well as everyone else on Quiet Ones and the other LJ groups._

Love and hugs and coffee,  
**_silverphoenix_**


	2. In Which Cats Feature Heavily

**Disclaimer:** _This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._  
**Author's Note:** _Here's chapter two. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. On an unrelated topic, I'm always looking for some good fics, so if you know any (especially B/Hr grins), let me know in a review._

* * *

**ANCIENT RUNES IN THE MODERN WORLD  
Chapter Two: In Which Cats Feature Heavily**

* * *

"What do you _mean_, 'he's missing'?" 

Shrugging, Daphne said, "He's missing. No one's seen him. We think he might have run away."

"Run away?" Hermione shook her head. "Why is this the first I've heard of it?"

"We've been telling everyone that he's ill in the Hospital Wing." A group of chattering Ravenclaws passed by and Daphne lowered her voice. "Snape knows, but he's told us to keep it quiet."

"Thanks, Daphne," Hermione said quietly. "I'd better go - I told Harry and Ron that I'd meet them."

Daphne nodded. "Okay. If you hear anything from him…"

"I'll let you know," Hermione finished flatly, feeling deflated by the revelation that Blaise was missing. Was it because of her? Had he really run away?

Why were Slytherins so confusing?

In the Great Hall, Harry and Ron were already eating, sat opposite each other at the Gryffindor table. Harry was picking at his food, but Ron was digging into his stew with vigour. "You alright, Hermione?" asked Harry, as she took a seat, pulling a plate towards her.

"Fine." She had not yet decided whether to tell Harry and Ron about Blaise. Even if she did, the Great Hall was not the right place to do it. Hermione looked at her plate. There seemed to be far too much food on it but she remember McGonagall's promise to give her the antidote and restore her Animagus ability if she started eating properly again. With a resigned sigh, she picked up her fork.

"You look worn out," commented Ron through a mouthful of dumpling.

"We were doing Troll in Languages," Hermione said. "Having an entire vocabulary put magically into your head is enough to tire anyone out."

Ron started waving his fork about as he spoke. "See, that's what I don't get. If they can put a language straight into your head, why do you need to take the subject?"

"They can only give you the vocabulary. Not the grammar or anything like that." Hermione did not feel like getting into a long and detailed explanation about the subject: Ron probably would not want her to, anyway.

There was a screech from a couple of fourth years further down the table. Looking up from his meal, Harry said, "People shouldn't let their pets come into the Great Hall." A black cat had jumped up onto the table, knocking someone's plate and sending gravy all over the white tablecloth. When a salt shaker was overturned, one of the girls gave another shriek and hurriedly tossed some salt over her shoulder.

"Cats aren't like owls," Hermione said evenly. "They don't spend all day sleeping in the Owlery."

Ron looked at her oddly. "Where is Crookshanks, anyway? I haven't seen him for a while."

A cool voice behind them said, "Concerned about Granger's pussy are you, Weasley?"

"Don't you have anything better to do, Malfoy?" asked Hermione wearily. She would not be at all surprised if he had anything to do with Blaise's disappearance. Their dislike of each other, while nowhere near as potent as Harry and Malfoy's, was nearing explosive proportions.

"I just haven't seen it for a while," Ron said and Malfoy arched an eyebrow.

I wonder if he practises doing that, Hermione wondered, whilst cringing inwardly. _Shut up, Ron! Shut up!_

Hermione wondered, whilst cringing inwardly. 

Ginny slid into a seat beside her brother and Hermione reached for her drink, pretending not to hear the exchange between Ron and Malfoy.

Malfoy turned to Crabbe and Goyle. "The poor old Weasel hasn't seen Granger's pussy for a while," he said to them. They chuckled on cue.

"I don't really like it anyway, Malfoy," Ron said. "So what are you going on about?"

"So you don't like her pussy?" Malfoy asked with glee.

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Hermione was on the verge of throttling Ron.

"Ow!" yelped Ginny. She glared at Harry. "Why did you kick me?"

He ignored her. "How's your wand, Malfoy?" he asked loudly.

"What do you mean, Potter?"

"Well," said Harry nonchalantly, "I heard a couple of girls say that ever since Pansy dumped you, your wand hasn't been working properly." Malfoy looked outraged at Harry's insinuation and stalked away without a further word.

Ginny looked pained. "Why did you kick me?" she asked again.

With a glare aimed in Ron's direction, Harry said, "I was trying to shut _him_ up."

"Oh," Ginny said in understanding. She, too, glared at Ron for good measure.

"Why?" Ron's eyes were wide with confusion. "I don't understand."

His sister patted him gently on the arm. "It's alright, Ron," she said gently. "I'll explain later."

* * *

"I don't like it. I don't like it at all." 

Millicent looked up from the piece of parchment on the table with a puzzled expression on her face. "It's hangman, Pansy. It's hardly difficult."

Pansy frowned. "Not _that_," she retorted, glancing at Daphne's wonky lines. "The word's 'Acromantula', anyway. Actually, I was talking about Blaise."

The three of them had claimed a corner of the Slytherin common room as their own, sending threatening glares in the direction of anyone who came near them. As extra security, Delilah was curled up on Pansy's lap, purring contentedly.

"He's probably buggered off to London, or something," Millicent said. "Or maybe he went to Italy. The weather's bound to be better there than it is here."

"How did you guess it?" Daphne said miserably, seemingly ignoring the other girls' conversation as she finished filling in the word on the parchment. For fun, she started drawing a picture of a stickman. Then she drew a flower.

"Because you _always_ choose it," Pansy said. "And don't pout - it's most unbecoming." She turned back to Millicent. "Why would he go to Italy?"

"Because that's where he comes from?" suggested Daphne, fiddling with her quill; it was bright pink.

Millicent rolled her eyes, unimpressed by Daphne. "He's from _Suffolk_, you div."

"But his family…!" the blonde Slytherin protested.

"I know what you mean," Millicent snapped, scowling at the other girl.

Pansy looked at her, concerned. "You alright?" she asked.

"Just worried about him," Millicent admitted reluctantly. "He doesn't strike me as the type to run away." Daphne and Pansy nodded in agreement.

Nervously, Daphne asked, "Do you think he's been kidnapped?"

None of them wanted to answer this question.

* * *

Hermione simply could not concentrate. Even reading _Hogwarts, a History_ did nothing to focus her. If anything, she found it increasingly difficult to stop her mind from wandering away from the words on the page. 

It was lunchtime and she was not hungry. Closing her book, Hermione replaced it on the shelf and stalked out of the Library, intent on finding somewhere that was not so deadly quiet. As peaceful as the Library could be, there were times when you needed a bit of noise.

Eventually, she settled in one of the rose gardens. It was still slightly cold outside, but she had - for once - remembered her gloves. With her cloak wrapped around her, she was content to sit on a bench, going over her Transfiguration notes. She amended her spelling on a few sentences and pulled out her wand to erase a doodle of a scarecrow.

A cat leapt up on the bench beside her, a streak of white flour on its black coat. "It looks like _somebody_ has been down in the kitchens," she commented with a smile and hold out her hand to it. Inquisitively, it padded towards her, nuzzling her hand. She took the opportunity to brush away the offending white powder.

Her fingers found no collar around its neck. "That's not very good, is it? I shall have to speak to Professor McGonagall - people don't seem to realise that putting collars on their pets is for their own good."

She leant forward and added, in a conspiratorial whisper, "Of course, if I even tried to approach Crookshanks with a collar he'd scratch me."

The cat purred as she scratched it behind the ear. "Hmmm," she said. "This is no good. You're distracting me."

Reaching for her homework diary, Hermione sighed as the cat decided to curl up on her lap. "Don't do that," she scolded half-heartedly. "Now I'm never going to be able to concentrate."

Once again, the cat purred, as though this had been its intention.

She narrowed her eyes. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a Slytherin cat. You're definitely sneaky enough for it." The cat stared at her with large eyes. "And distracting enough."

As she opened her diary, she received a sharp warning that she had a Transfiguration essay to write. Hermione snapped it shut. For once, Transfiguration could wait.

"What is it about Slytherins?" she asked. "I used to think they were one thing, but suddenly, they're indescribable." She paused, frowning. "And not in a good way."

There was a muffled squeak from her diary and she gave it a thump before slipping it back into her bag. No matter how helpful it was, it could also be incredibly annoying at times.

"It was easier when we were younger," she admitted, glad to have an audience that was not going to start thinking about Quidditch while she spoke. "Everything was more black and white. Now it's just different greys and I'm not sure what to do about it." A crooked smile crossed her face. "At any rate, the red and green were more distinct."

Feeling a pang of hunger, Hermione said, "D'you think you could move?" The cat seemed to be drifting off to sleep. "I should really go get something to eat."

The cat did not attempt to move and Hermione's experiences with her own cat made her wary of moving it with force.

"Please?" she asked hopefully.

It made no difference.

However, a shout of laughter around the corner made the cat lift its head and it quickly sped off.

Not for the first time, Hermione realised just how utterly bizarre her life was. She lifted up her bag, in time to hear an angry torrent of swearing coming from the same direction as the laughter, which subsequently increased. She decided that, in her capacity as a prefect, she should investigate.

She was not prepared for the sight that beheld her.

It was Draco Malfoy.

He was blue.

Surrounded by a group of students, the Slytherin prefect was a picture of rage, his skin a bright cerulean and his hair a stunning emerald. He was swearing, apparently at Crabbe and Goyle, who were sniggering. A group of students was gathering, everyone trying to get a glimpse of Malfoy's condition.

Hermione decided, as a prefect, to ignore the fact that Colin Creevey was snapping away with gusto. As a Gryffindor, she was rejoicing that there would be a photographic record of this event.

"What's going on?" she asked Padma Patil. The Ravenclaw prefect had been there upon Hermione's arrival and had presumably seen the entire spectacle.

"Crabbe did it," the Ravenclaw said, trying to remain composed.

"By accident?" Even Hermione had assumed that Vincent Crabbe's magical skills were at least somewhat controlled.

Padma grinned wickedly. "On purpose."

"He _what_?"

Grinning, Padma nodded. "Yeah. Crabbe cursed him. I didn't hear exactly what happened, but it seems that Crabbe's actually grown a spine."

"Should we take points?" Hermione asked uncertainly.

"Probably," Padma agreed. "I might leave it for the professors to sort out." She adopted a serious tone. "I'm sure that they would much rather deal with this situation."

"What about trying to reverse the spell?"

The two prefects looked at each other before laughing. "Maybe not," said Hermione.

Eyeing Colin Creevey, Padma added, "D'you reckon you could get me a copy of those pictures?"

"I'll see what I can do. Now…" she trailed off thoughtfully. "Which professor do we tell?"

"Snape, definitely," Padma said emphatically. "He'll go _mental_."

Snape it was, then.

* * *

Opening his eyes slightly, Blaise yawned. It felt much too early to wake up properly, yet. Besides, he was nice and warm. 

_I'll just have a bit of a catnap, the conscious part of his mind thought before he closed his eyes again._

* * *

Lavender liked standing on her bed when she was excited. Hermione had never worked out why, as the mattresses were not especially bouncy and so were not much use for jumping on. 

"So is he a good kisser?" she asked, clutching a heart-shaped pillow to her chest. Parvati looked up from where she was lying on her own bed, painting her nails.

Hermione placed _Hogwarts, a History_ back on her bookshelf. "Is who a good kisser?" she asked.

"Justin," she swooned. "He is _so_ good-looking, Hermione. You're so lucky!"

"I am?"

Parvati nodded. "Everyone says so."

"They do?"

"He's gorgeous, rich and… well, do I really need to go on?"

What about personality? Hermione wondered.

Lavender piped up, saying, "And you're both _Muggleborn_! It's like a match made in Heaven!"

"It is?" Hermione was not quite sure what to say to this. Granted, Justin was nice, but that was about the only adjective that she could ascribe to the Hufflepuff.

"I overheard him talking to Ernie," said Parvati, who was applying a second coat of varnish to her left hand, "and he was saying that he's never felt this way about anyone before."

"He did?" Hermione's voice raised an octave and Lavender let out a squeal of joy.

"This is so great! Hermione's got a boyfriend!"

Did a not-entirely-sober New Year's kiss and an awkward trip to Hogsmeade constitute a relationship? Then again, her relationship with Viktor had not progressed a great deal further than that and her and Blaise's was not quite at that point.

Not that Blaise and I were in a relationship.

As far as Hermione was concerned, her relationships (if you could call them that) did not end well: Viktor was dead and Blaise was missing. All in all, things did not bode well for Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Picking up her hairbrush, Hermione said, "I don't really think that I'd call him a boyfriend." She began to tug at her unruly locks, reminding herself to use the Conditioning Potion when she next washed her hair.

"Let's give her a makeover so that she can look pretty for him." Parvati shook her bottle of nail polish. Hermione had her wand out a second later, hairbrush falling to the floor.

"Don't you dare even _think_ about coming near me with any kind of cosmetics," she warned. Lavender had the grace to look apprehensive, but Parvati just laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Even _I'm_ not crazy enough to try anything on you, Hermione."

Hermione lowered her wand. "Really?" Lavender and Parvati nodded in unison.

"You're dead scary sometimes," said Lavender.

"You make Umbridge look like a pussycat."

"Have either of you seen Crookshanks?" asked Hermione suddenly.

Lavender clambered down off her bed, returning her heart pillow to the pile at the foot of the bed. "I remember chasing him out of here when he tried eating my moisturiser." She paused, as thoughtfully as she was capable of, and said, "That was about a week ago, though."

* * *

Having already successfully Transfigured her pineapple into a porcupine and then into a pocket watch, Hermione set about watching the second hand as it ticked around. It seemed to be slightly faster than her own watch. 

"Miss Bulstrode." Professor McGonagall's voice cut above the low murmur of the students. "Are you aware that your pocket watch is running backwards?"

Tearing her eyes way from her watch, Hermione looked over to where Millicent was sitting next to Theodore Nott.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," said Millicent, who sounded slightly exasperated. "I've tried three times and I still can't get it right." McGonagall waved her wand and the watch turned back into a porcupine.

"Does anyone," said McGonagall, addressing the class, "have any idea as to why Miss Bulstrode's method is failing her?" Millicent looked annoyed at having her failure pointed out in front of the entire class; Hermione would have hated to be in that position. McGonagall looked around expectantly. "Miss Granger?" she asked, sounding slightly hopeful.

Hermione looked carefully at Millicent: her porcupine was investigating her Transfiguration book. The Slytherin's wand caught her eye. "She's left-handed," Hermione blurted out.

"And what does that mean?" McGonagall asked: Hermione detected a note of triumph in her voice.

"That she should try reversing the wand movements?"

Millicent looked slightly stunned at such a simple suggestion - and possibly the fact that Hermione had not elaborated further, as she was prone to do - and Professor McGonagall nodded. "Very good, Miss Granger."

At the end of the lesson, Hermione returned her pineapple to the fruit bowl on Professor McGonagall's desk. When she left the classroom, Millicent fell into step with her. "I'm sorry about having to correct you." Hermione felt that it was right to apologise, for reasons that she could not quite understand. "Only, McGonagall asked me and…"

Rolling her eyes, the Slytherin girl said, "Does it really matter? If I was going to be corrected by anyone, I'm glad it was someone who knows what they're talking about." She wrinkled her nose. "I'm more annoyed with myself than anything - I can't believe that I didn't get something so _simple_. I have to do that on a lot of spells anyway, so why I didn't think of it straight away I just don't know."

"We all have our off days," Hermione said. Millicent looked at her disbelievingly. "Even me!" the Gryffindor protested. "I'm not perfect." She gave a short cry as she nearly tripped over a cat. "Not you again," she scolded, peering down at it.

"That's Theodore's cat," said Millicent.

"Theodore Nott?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah."

"But he doesn't have a cat." The cat sat in the middle of the corridor, staring up at the two witches. "He's allergic - has to go down to the Hospital Wing every week for a potion." It had been in her second year, after the Polyjuice incident, that she had discovered this - there were several other students with the same problem. Spending all that time in the Hospital Wing while she returned to normal, she had watched a regular influx of students arrive for the simple remedy for their allergy.

Millicent looked at her sceptically. "Are you sure? Because I definitely remember seeing that cat in the boy's dormitory. Black cat, no collar."

Hermione's eyes widened and a knut began to drop. "Was this before or after Blaise disappeared?" she demanded as the cat began to saunter away.

"Um, I can't really remember."

"_Before_ or _after_?" The cat headed round the corner.

"After, I suppose." She looked quizzically at Hermione. "Why, what is it?"

"We have to find that cat," she said, pointing a trembling finger down the corridor and setting off at a run.

"Why?" Millicent called after her.

"I'll explain later." Hermione turned the corner. Things were starting to make sense.

* * *

**Thank Yous:** _Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter one: **Slytherin-Ali, padfoot+prongs-live, KagomePotterFan, katherose, xRubySohox, ChibiGyouza, imogenhm, Onion Layers, tamlane, magnetic-starfish, Thiralin, Doodleflip, Bland Taste, Tiamante Salazar Tameran, Flavagurl, Black Aliss, JellyBellys, seventhofseptember, slytherinphoenix7, duj, ilovetom88,FrenchDressing, DragonofGoodFaith, KateM** and **Zaralya**._

Love and hugs and coffee,  
**_silverphoenix_**


	3. In Which Hermione Has a Cunning Plan

**Disclaimer:** _This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**ANCIENT RUNES IN THE MODERN WORLD  
Chapter Three: In Which Hermione Has a Cunning Plan**

* * *

"I'm impressed."

Blaise looked up from where he had been picking through a box of Every Flavour Beans. Hermione was stood at the end of his bed in the Hospital Wing, half-obscured by the curtain. "You can sit down if you want," he said quietly.

Rather than sitting on the chair, Hermione perched on the end of the bed; Blaise shifted his feet out of the way. She put a piece of parchment on his knees. "Ancient Runes notes," she explained. Then, "Although you _did_ do it in your sleep, so I'm going to take points for that."

"And I thought that was going to earn me bonus points," he deadpanned. He flexed his fingers experimentally before picking up a brown bean. He was trying to find a chocolate one, but had so far only succeeded in finding mud and carob.

Hermione kept her voice low. "I was rather surprised that you were a cat," she admitted. "It makes sense, though."

"What does?"

"That I was attracted to you." Blaise felt a pang of annoyance at her use of the past tense. "There must have been some kind of animal instinct or something." She seemed to brighten. "I'll have to do some research into it. There's bound to be some books in the Library."

"Trust you to get excited over research," said Blaise, offering her the box of sweets. She refused his offer with a shake of her head. "So what do you reckon the odds are, then?" he asked, putting the box back and looking at her quizzically.

"Of what?"

"Of there being three cat Animagi in such a small vicinity."

"Oh." Hermione looked thoughtful. "I don't know. I don't think anyone could give exact figures, seeing as Animagi are so rare in the first place. It's bizarre, I'll give you that."

Sighing, Hermione said, "What am I going to tell Millicent? She probably thinks that I'm some kind of mad cat-woman for making her chase a cat all over the castle."

"She could probably do with the exercise," Blaise said dismissively. To his surprise, Hermione did not admonish him for this comment. In fact, she looked slightly amused.

Somehow, Blaise had managed to complete the Animagus transformation. Unfortunately, this event had occurred while he was sleeping and, repressed by the animal's instincts, Blaise had been unable to turn back. He had wandered the castle all that time until Hermione had realised he was the black cat that kept following her.

"But what do I tell her?"

"We tell her the truth," said Blaise simply, trying not to yawn. He was exceedingly tired, having lead Hermione and Millicent on something of an expedition while they endeavoured to catch his feline form.

"The truth?" Hermione repeated, eyes wide. "The real truth?"

"The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth." Blaise could not remember where he had heard that before, but it seemed an appropriate response.

"Are you sure?"

Blaise selected another bean, this time a pink one. He rolled it between his fingers as he said, "I don't remember a lot from being a cat, but I do remember how separate the houses are. I mean, I notice it when I'm human, but it just became more apparent. You thought I was a Slytherin. The Ravenclaws thought I was Hufflepuff. Hufflepuffs that I was Gryffindor… no one's listened to the Sorting Hat."

Her brow creased for a moment in confusion. "You mean when it said the houses need to unite?"

"Exactly." He gave a resigned sigh. "You're a bad influence on me. You've given me a conscience."

Hermione looked puzzled. "I'm not sure that that's a bad thing."

"It is for me. I never wanted to be socially aware. I was perfectly happy in my little bubble, but now it's…"

"Burst?" Hermione suggested with a sly grin. She seemed to be growing more comfortable in his presence. She paused, licking her lips. "Maybe telling Millicent is a good idea. And Pansy, Ron and all the others." Nodding, she said, "This will be a good thing. A step towards bringing the houses together."

Hermione spoke more confidently and Blaise could practically see wheels turning in her head as a plan began to form. He coughed: he could feel another hairball.

* * *

Names were written in neat columns in Hermione's notebook. She stared at them, then used her wand to move a couple of names to a different column. She sighed. It would work, hopefully; people were surprising sometimes.

It was just initiating the plan that was the trouble. Some people would not be happy, and she still had to speak to Harry, but Hermione was confident that her plan would succeed. The plan was a bit strange, she supposed, but that was possibly what made it so appealing.

"Hermione, can you help me with my Defence work?" Ginny Weasley asked. A heavy volume landed next to Hermione, nearly knocking her bottle of ink over. "What are you doing?" The redhead peered over at Hermione's notebook.

Looking up, Hermione closed her book, hiding the lists from Ginny. "Do you still have your Galleon?" she asked.

Bemused, Ginny asked. "The DA Galleon?"

"Yeah."

For a moment, Ginny fished around in the pocket of her robes. She pulled out the gold coin. "I carry it with me all the time. Why?" Her eyes brightened. "Are you thinking about starting up the DA again?"

"Would you be interested if I was?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"Of course." Ginny's Defence Against the Dark Arts work was apparently forgotten. "I think there are a few other people who'd be interested in it as well."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Have you been talking to anyone about it?"

"No," Ginny scoffed. "Do I look like a sneak?" She was right: there was a distinct lack of curse-induced spots. "I've heard people saying that it would be good if there was a Duelling Club or something."

"Thanks, Gin," Hermione said with a grin. She stood up. "I'm going to go and find Harry and Ron." She made to leave, then turned back to Ginny. "Do me a favour and don't lose that Galleon."

Ginny watched as Hermione exited through the portrait hole. With a sigh, she looked at the book she had put down. "I hate homework," she grumbled.

Hermione thought it rather ironic that she found Harry and Ron near the Room of Requirement. She ushered them into it, despite Ron's protests: "But we've got Quidditch practise!"

"Practise doesn't start until six," she said gruffly. She was not going to take 'no' for an answer. Inside the room, there was a table that looked as though it had been taken straight out of the Library. There were three chairs around it, and Hermione took a seat.

Harry and Ron followed suite, looking at her expectantly. "Do you have something that you need to tell us?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione said with a nod.

"Then tell us," prodded Ron. "We're not going to hurt you."

Hermione was not sure whether he would keep to that after she had finished tell them. She told them about Professor McGonagall's proposition to train her. How she finally succeeded only to be told that she was harming herself and had her ability blocked.

"Wow." Ron kept to a monosyllable.

Harry stared at the table. "Please say something," Hermione begged.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"McGonagall asked me not to tell either of you. I think that she didn't want to get anyone's hopes up."

"But you could have told me!" he said, glaring at her. "I could have helped you!"

Hermione bit her lip. That was not entirely what Harry meant, and they both knew it. "I'm sorry." She reached, covering his hand with hers. He flinched slightly, but allowed her to touch him. "There's more."

"More?" Ron seemed even more surprised.

"Blaise." Hermione told them about the agreement. She told them everything, up until her conversation with Blaise in the Hospital Wing. Then, she explained her plan.

Ron's mouth hung open. "You're mad. Brilliant, but completely nuts. People'll kill each other or end up like Malfoy." He snickered at his own mental image of the blue Slytherin: Snape still had not been able to reverse Crabbe's spell, much to the chagrin of Malfoy and the delight of the other students.

"Harry?" asked Hermione uncertainly, looking to him for support. He was vital to the plan.

He took a deep breath. "I'm not happy with you for not telling us about the Animagus thing, but," he gave her a small smile, "I think you've got a good vision. I'll help if the Slytherins are willing to come."

"You'll do it?" she asked excitedly.

"Yes."

"Thank you!" She practically knocked the table over in her haste to hug him. Harry gave her a lopsided grin.

"No more secrets?" he asked hopefully.

"I'll try," she promised, which caused Ron to laugh.

The two looked at him and he shrugged. "That sounded very Slytherin. I think they're having an influence on us."

* * *

Daphne was gaping.

"Close your mouth, it's most unbecoming." Pansy turned her attention from Daphne to Blaise, who as still in the Hospital Wing. Daphne was sitting primly on the chair beside Blaise's bed, while Pansy and Millicent were perching on his bed and forcing Blaise to pull his knees up to make room for them. "Are you sure that you haven't been hallucinating?" she asked.

In a low voice, Millicent, "It all sounds like some crazy dream to me." She popped a piece of Blaise's chocolate into her mouth.

"It isn't. Granger's been teaching me to become an Animagus."

"I thought you two were just, y'know," said Daphne, blushing at the very thought. Millicent rolled her eyes.

"We're not," Blaise said gruffly.

Pansy looked pensive. Quietly, she pushed her hair behind her ear. "I think you're right. The houses need to stop all this stupid rivalry."

"Are you just saying that because of your relationship with Weasley?" asked Millicent darkly.

"My parents were Ravenclaws. They were _ashamed_ when I was put in Slytherin. They were _ashamed _of _me_." The prefect took a steadying breath, her eyes wet. "I want it to be different for our children."

"Your and Weasley's children?" Blaise asked languidly, reclining on a lumpy pillow.

She scowled. "_No_. You know what I mean, though." She turned to Daphne. "If you'd been put in Hufflepuff, how would your parents or grandparents have reacted?"

Daphne popped the bubble that she was blowing, pulling the gum back into her mouth. "Granddad Greengrass would have taken me out of his will. There's some kind of stil…stip…"

"Stipulation," Pansy supplied gently.

"_Stipulation_," said Daphne nodding, "that Greengrass heirs can't be Hufflepuffs." Leaning forward and in a hushed tone, she said, "Daddy thinks that Uncle Albie is going to get written out because he's married a Hufflepuff." She sat back in her seat looking expectantly at the others.

Pansy looked satisfied with this. "Exactly my point. We've all got far too many prejudices." Millicent opened her mouth, as if to protest, but Pansy continued, saying, "Everyone hates _us_ because we're Slytherins. No one trusts us, and with the current _situation_ I think we need all the allies we can get."

"We're not doing ourselves any favours by keeping ourselves segregated from the rest of the students." Blaise held back a yawn.

"I'm in," said Millicent, frowning. "Granger's plan sounds completely barmy, but we should probably give it a go."

* * *

When Justin took her hand after they left the Ancient Runes classroom together, Hermione could feel herself blushing. He smiled warmly at her. "Is it me," he asked, "or is Professor Mayfair getting more and more boring by the day."

"We're just not studying the most interesting topic at the moment," said Hermione cautiously, wondering how she could get Justin to let go of her hand.

"I suppose." He shrugged. "Do you want to eat lunch with me today? I'm sure my friends won't mind you joining us."

Hermione did not particularly want to sit at the Hufflepuff table. They were perfectly pleasant - although Ernie was constantly spouting off his conspiracy theories - but if she sat with them, Hermione felt sure that she would be subject to a barrage of gossip.

"I told Harry and Ron that I'd meet them at lunch."

In truth, Hermione had merely said the perfunctory "I'll see you later," to the two Gryffindors after breakfast that morning. Justin was, thankfully, not to know this.

He looked at her expectantly, but the invitation never came. Justin was silent for a moment before saying, "We could meet up later. You've got a free lesson this afternoon, don't you?" Hermione nodded. "So've I. We could go for a walk - I could show you my Herbology project…"

On their way to the Great Hall, Justin talked solidly about his Herbology coursework and how she should not have dropped the subject. "It's really fascinating," he insisted, running a hand through his blond hair in annoyance that Hermione could not see this.

Just outside the Great Hall, they stopped. "I should go and join my friends," said Hermione quickly, spotting Harry and Ron as they took their seats.

"Okay," he said with a grin. "I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall at about three." Justin looked around briefly, before quickly kissing her. He took her stunned expression as a good sign and smiled before releasing her hand and wandering off to the Hufflepuff table.

Inwardly, Hermione groaned in realisation at what she had just agreed to.

She knew from Neville that the NEWT level students kept their private work in a small greenhouse behind the other ones.

She knew from Ginny what this greenhouse was used for when there were no other students there.

* * *

The members of the DA who were still at Hogwarts were talking amongst themselves. As usual, the Room of Requirement had provided them with a suitable place to practise in and the members were getting themselves reacquainted with it.

Harry had noticed Hermione's smile when she saw that the room had put up banners for all four of the houses. It seemed that even the room knew what was happening.

Twisting the cuff of his robe, Ron asked, "How much longer do you think she'll be?" Hermione had departed a few minutes earlier to retrieve the new members of the DA, parchment and quill in hand.

"Not long, I expect." He was gripping his wand tighter than was absolutely necessary. He sighed. "Let's get this over with."

When Harry failed to attract the attention of the other DA members on his first attempt, Ron stepped in. "Oi, shut up, will you?" A hush fell over the other students, broken by Ginny's sniggering. Ron just glared at her briefly before turning back to Harry. "They're all yours, mate."

"Er, thanks," said Harry. He gave the other students a wary smile. "Hi, everyone. Welcome back." There were a few cheers, making Harry redden. "We'll get started with going over a few spells that we practised last year when Hermione gets back. She's gone to get a few new members."

A couple of people started whispering. Who? Some fifth years probably. Maybe a couple of younger students.

"When they get here, I want you to pair up with someone from another house," Harry announced. Seeing Parvati start to edge towards her sister, he cast her a sharp look. She stopped, looking sheepish.

Hermione stepped into the room, the others entering behind her. The DA members stared. Justin Finch-Fletchley stepped forward.

"What," he asked, eyes narrowing, "are they doing here?"

"They worked for Umbridge last year," Padma Patil spoke out; Pansy seemed to shrink, but Millicent held her head up.

"That was last year," said Ron. Justin's eyes widened.

"You're not serious about letting them join us, are you?" he asked, turning to Harry. "For all you know, they'll go out and betray us to…"

"To whom?" asked Hermione shrilly, having finished putting the parchment back it her bag. It had four new signatures. "In case you hadn't noticed, Umbridge isn't here anymore."

"The enemy is a bit bigger than that," said Harry patiently, resisting the urge to curse Justin so he would be quiet. "Voldemort isn't some ambitious little Defence teacher." There were a few gasps; there was mostly stunned silence. "We need to band together. I don't know about you all, but I'm tired of avoiding people because of the house that they're in."

"Or keeping secrets," Blaise spoke up.

Harry nodded. "Or keeping secrets. If any of you have a problem with Slytherins joining the DA, I suggest you leave now." He looked sharply at Justin and the Hufflepuff took a step backwards.

The members of the DA exchanged glances. Was anyone going to leave? No.

* * *

After the third DA session, the group had grown by about ten people, all of whom had been hand-picked by Hermione. Harry had to agree that she had made some interesting choices, but everyone seemed to be cooperating.

He brushed some dust from his robes; they had been practising the Patronus Charm and the other members were just now starting to file out of the Room of Requirement, most of them pleased with their progress.

Harry, too, was happy with how things were going. People did not seem to have forgotten everything, so that was helpful.

"You're a very good teacher," a voice said behind him. He turned around, surprised.

"Oh, thanks," he said, seeing Daphne Greengrass beaming at him.

"I was wondering," she continued, "well, actually, me and Luna were, if they come in other colours."

"If what come in other colours?" Harry was definitely perplexed by the Slytherin girl. _What_ had she just asked?

"The Patronuses. Patronii." Her brow wrinkled as she puzzled out the plural of 'Patronus'. "If you can make them come in other colours," she said.

"Er, no," said Harry. "Just white, I think."

"Okay," Daphne grinned. "That's nice to know." With a last toothy smile, she left.

Harry blinked. That had been bizarre. Why would you want to make a Patronus a different colour? It must be a girl thing.

"Do close your mouth, Potter, you're going to let flies in." Blaise looked over at Harry from where he had been adjusting one of the banners - a waywardly-aimed Patronus had knocked it off the wall.

Looking at him, startled, Harry said, "I wasn't… my mouth…"

Blaise raised his eyebrows. "Honestly," he remarked, shaking his head, "it's no good gawping after her. As nice as Daphne is, she's not the brightest star in the heavens when it comes to that sort of thing."

Scowling, Harry said, "I wasn't gawping."

"Of course you weren't," Blaise said dismissively. "You were just inhaling deeply."

* * *

**Thank Yous:** _Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter two: **Gremlyn, kiss-of-cuteness, professor-fidget, Disty, Dagorwen of Ithilien, kiki4x3, Shattered Immortality, charming flirt, f a e r i e . i v y, death is only a phase, sugerplumfairy, Novemberkind, Under-the-Moonlight, Procella Nox-noctis, slytherinphoenix7, Tinas74, KateM, Slytherin-Ali, Ali, JellyBellys, Flavagurl, katherose, TomsGirl07, KagomePotterFan, The-Ever-Lazy-One** and **Zaralya**._

Love and hugs and coffee,  
**_silvernatasha_**


	4. In Which Blaise Has Trouble Sleeping

**Disclaimer:** _This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**ANCIENT RUNES IN THE MODERN WORLD  
Chapter Four: In Which Blaise Has Trouble Sleeping**

* * *

Pulling a face, Ginny asked, "Ron, didn't Mum teach you any manners?" When Ron failed to look up from his bowl of porridge, she said, "You probably weren't listening, anyway."

Ron blinked up at her. "Did you say something?"

His sister sighed. "You've got something on your chin," she said wearily. He wiped off a blob of porridge with his sleeve.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Fine. I was up late last night studying for OWLs."

"I don't know why you bother." He wrinkled his nose.

"Because I want to get better grades than you." Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

Sliding into a seat, Hermione commented, "It's too early for bickering."

"Late night?" asked Ginny, a mischievous smile creeping onto her face. Hermione glared at her, reaching for a jug of pumpkin juice. "Lavender Brown said you didn't get back to your dormitory until late."

With a bacon sandwich in front of her, Hermione said, "I was with Blaise and Harry discussing the DA."

Ron looked confused. "But Harry got back to Gryffindor about nine o'clock."

"Ooh-er." Ginny looked pleased, rubbing her hands together. "You and Blaise spending some 'private time' together?"

Hermione, however, was saved from having to reply to Ginny's insinuation by the sight of a furious-looking Pansy who had just stormed into the Great Hall. "Been fighting with your other half?" she asked in a low voice, elbowing him. He glanced over his shoulder at the Slytherin girl and seemed to shrink in size at the sight of his girlfriend.

"It wasn't me," he hissed in a defensive whisper. "I've _never_ seen her like that."

Evidently, Millicent had spotted Pansy's anger and was attempting to calm her friend down. This obviously did not work, as Pansy's irate voice drifted over to the Gryffindor table.

"She's a purebred cat for more generations than I can count! I can't believe this has happened!"

Hermione looked to Ron for an explanation. He shrugged. "Sounds like it's something to do with her cat, Delilah."

"Kittens!"

Ginny snickered at Pansy's vehement exclamation. "Her cat's been knocked up."

Staring sullenly at his porridge, Ron said, "Yeah." Hermione narrowed her eyes at this.

"What's the problem, Ron?" she demanded, her breakfast momentarily forgotten.

He shrugged. "I had a weird dream last night, that's all. Nothing to worry about."

Seeing that there was still half of his breakfast remaining, Ginny commented on this and said, "Something's _definitely _wrong."

"What was the dream about?" Hermione probed gently, trying to get the information out of him. She pushed her hair behind her ear, having only hurriedly brushed it before going down for breakfast.

Ron ducked his head. Speaking in a low whisper, he said, "It was about Harry." He paused. "And You-Know-Who."

"What?" Hermione spluttered, having just taken a mouthful of pumpkin juice. "What about?"

"They were playing chess."

"Who was winning?" Ginny asked.

Ron looked embarrassed and hastily began eating his breakfast. "Ginny, what sort of question is that?" Hermione chastised Ron's sister, who merely shrugged.

"I dunno. Maybe the dream was prophetic or something." The redhead looked at Ron. "Are you going to tell Harry about it?"

Ron shook his head. "Are you mad? Course I'm not going to tell him. You know what he's like when it comes to dreams."

Taking a seat next to Ron, Lavender Brown looked at him with an interested expression. "Dreams?" she repeated. "Who's been having dreams? Do you want me to interpret them? That's what we're doing in Divination at the moment." Ron groaned and pretended to bang his head on the table.

"No thank you, Lavender," said Hermione with as much politeness as she could muster. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure? Because we've just covered nudity in dreams. It's _really _interesting. My dream books says…"

"Dream book?" asked Ron. "Were there pictures?"

Lavender pulled a face. "Pervert."

* * *

Blaise stretched out his legs, resting them on the chair opposite him. It was nearly eleven o'clock and the common room was nearly empty, save for himself and a couple of fifth years girls who were fretting over a mock Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL that they were to have the next day. He yawned, flicking over the page of his Charms textbook and trying to focus on the information in front of him. 

In retaliation for the his blue skin, Malfoy had put a curse on Vincent Crabbe which had given him an unnaturally deep baritone. His voice was so deep, in fact, that it had become an almost intelligible rumble. It had also made his snoring fifty times worse that normal, and Blaise was not going to go to bed any earlier than necessary. Anything he could do to avoid that atrocious racket was a good thing.

It was getting hard to stay awake, though. He yawned again, glancing at his watch. The description of the Protego Charm - fifteen pages long - was simply leaving his memory as soon as he read it. _It would probably be easier to just ask Hermione about it_, he decided.

Thinking about Hermione was not helpful, however, as it reminded him that he still had to prepare a list of Slytherins that he thought would be suitable to join the DA. _She should have just asked Pansy and Daphne_. Anything that those two girls did not know about the inhabitants of Slytherin was not worth knowing.

After yawning for the third time in as many minutes, Blaise placed his bookmark, as silver and green ribbon, between the pages of his book and proceeded to his dormitory. Stood outside the room, the door shook with the vibrations of Crabbe's snoring.

Bracing himself, Blaise entered to find that Crabbe was the only sixth year who was sleeping. Well, Malfoy had his head under his pillow, but the way that his shoulders were rising and falling told Blaise that he was not asleep. Nott and Goyle were playing Exploding Snap.

"Evening," said Goyle sullenly.

"Can't sleep?" Blaise asked as he put his Charms book back on his bookshelf, although he already knew the answer.

"I don't think anyone can," Theodore said, just barely audible above the snoring.

Blaise flopped down on his bed. "What 'bout Malfoy?"

Goyle glared at the other boy's bed. "Prat's too stubborn to take the curse off."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Blaise said, "Why doesn't anybody go to Snape? It's been three days - this is getting ridiculous!"

"We need Malfoy back on the Quidditch team," Goyle said. "We'll just have to put up with it."

Blaise pulled his pillow over his head with a groan, although it could not be heard over Crabbe's snoring.

The next day in Ancient Runes Hermione had to keep prodding Blaise. "Are you alright?" she whispered.

"Tired," he mumbled, lifting his head off the desk.

"At least try and _look_ like you're awake," Hermione said quietly, giving his arm another nudge with her elbow. Sleepily, he rubbed his arm and forced his eyes as wide open as possible. They began to water and he blinked, forcing himself to concentrate on what Professor Mayfair had written on the blackboard.

"I need coffee."

"You can borrow my notes later." Giving him a small smile, Hermione turned back to the professor while Blaise tried to see if he could sleep with his eyes open.

After the lesson, Blaise haphazardly stuffed his notebook back into his bag, nearly spilling his bottle of ink. Shaking her head in amusement, Hermione screwed the lid on tightly, handing it to him. "Why are you so tired?" she asked, concerned.

"Malfoy cursed Crabbe. The snoring's unbearable."

She looked thoughtful at this. "Do you remember what the spell was?" Buried somewhere under the fog of his present state of mind, Blaise managed to remember the spell and scribbled it down on a scrap of parchment that he used as a bookmark. "I'll see if I can find a counter spell. Why don't you try and sleep now that it's lunchtime?" she suggested.

Blaise nodded, stifling a yawn that made his yaw tremble. "Yeah, I s'pose."

Hermione beamed. "I'll give you the notes later - you're coming to the sixth and seventh year DA meeting, right?"

"Course."

"Sweet dreams."

Hermione wandered out the classroom, intent on heading to the Library so that she could check on a couple of spells before that evening. It had been Ron's idea, actually, to hold a DA meeting just for the older students. With the growing ranks it was getting difficult to teach everyone together, and so Ron had suggested that they get some of the other students to help run the meetings, splitting up into smaller groups.

However, after catching a whiff of lunch as she passed the Great Hall, Hermione decided that the spells could wait until after her afternoon lessons. It was strangely liberating, she decided, not to do something straight away.

* * *

Hermione sat nervously on the chair in McGonagall's office, twisting her hands in her lap. 

"Have a biscuit, Miss Granger."

"No, thank you, Professor McGonagall."

The Head of Gryffindor gave a nod and took a seat behind her desk. "Very well. Now, I think it's time that we had a serious talk."

* * *

"Why is Weasley tap-dancing?" 

Blaise yawned, taking a seat next to Hermione. She shrugged, leaning back on her chair. "I think that Pansy was trying to prove a point."

"He's quite good."

"You should have seen him waltzing earlier." Hermione grinned, reaching up to tighten her ponytail. "Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough." He rubbed his neck - apparently, he had slept in an awkward position. "You didn't happen to find a counter spell, did you?"

She handed him a slip of parchment.

"Thank you!" He was so relieved that he could have kissed her; he restrained himself. Thinking that like was not going to get him anywhere, he knew that much.

There was a _thud_ as Ron finished his tap-dance with a flourish and promptly fell to the floor.

Harry started talking about their plans to split the DA into smaller units, and Blaise forced himself to listen. He was acutely aware of Hermione's close proximity - there was something _different_ about her, he was sure of it. Blaise cast a sideways glance at her, but she was busy reading over her notes. When she noticed that he was staring, she gave him a small smile and continued with what she was doing.

Blaise picked at a cuticle after being told that he would be helping to supervise some fourth year students. That did not seem to be too bad; he could think of worse things.

After nearly an hour, Harry finally dismissed them, handing them all a piece of parchment with instructions and a spell so that they could read them. Blaise shoved the apparently blank parchment into the inside pocket of his robes, planning to read it when he was more awake. Hopefully, the spell that Hermione had provided him with would give him a good night's sleep.

He pulled Hermione to the side as they were leaving the Room of Requirement. The corridor was quiet. "What's happened to you?"

She looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You. You've done something to yourself." He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Who are you and what have you done with Hermione."

Hermione shrugged off his hand in annoyance, rolling her eyes. "I _am _Hermione, Blaise. Honestly, I don't know what's come over you."

"Sorry. But I can tell that there's something different."

She looked thoughtful. "Well, McGonagall gave me the antidote today. You know, so that I can…"

"That's it!" Blaise's eyes widened. "It's like… you're more _tangible_ than anyone else. More real," he added quietly. He moved closer, fingers brushing against the collar of her shirt; she gasped softly.

"You're sleep deprived," Hermione said quickly.

"It's difficult trying to keep my focus on anything else."

Hermione nodded, swallowing. "I had the same feeling," she said, quietly. "But why has it only just started happening?"

His fingers caught the end of a stray lock of hair from her ponytail. "Maybe because that potion put a block on your Animagus ability. Now that it's been taken off and I've completed the transformation, maybe it's affecting us."

"That's a good theory," she agreed, moving forwards. "I should do some research."

"Yes. Research. That would be good. Because this is distracting."

"Very." Hermione licked her bottom lip. "Distracting."

"Indeed."

He kissed her, lips crashing down on hers. Hermione staggered backwards, her back hitting the wall. Her nails raked down his chest, still sharp despite the layers of fabric. His hand clutched desperately at her ponytail, trying to pull her closer.

With a gasp, they broke apart, Blaise stumbling backwards.

Hermione's lips were red. "Blaise?" she asked nervously, breathlessly. "What was that?"

Blaise ran.

* * *

**Thank Yous:** _Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter three: **seventhofseptember, Dagon ng Likha, Spizzy the Headless Spaz, Broadwaypoetess, slytherinphoenix7, gremlyn, homestar-fan, Trixie7, katherose, Liam MacGivern, Isadora, sortinghat086, Gremlyn, shatteredimmortality, death is only a phase, Flavagurl, matilda, HogwartzBoizRHottiez, Procella Nox-noctis, kiss-of-cuteness** and **Doodleflip**._

Love and hugs and coffee,  
**_silvernatasha_**


	5. In Which There Is Yet More Kissing

**Disclaimer:** _This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**ANCIENT RUNES IN THE MODERN WORLD   
Chapter Five: In Which Yet More Kissing Occurs**

* * *

Ron had left his watch in the Room of Requirement, and had been returning to get it when he was nearly knocked over as someone ran past him. Surprised to see Hermione stood in the corridor, he stopped, staring at her instead of reprimanding whoever it was that had knocked him.

"You alright, Hermione?" he asked, concerned. Something clearly was not quite right and it just wasn't like Hermione to get flustered like this. As she straightened her ponytail, she looked completely out of her depth, completely bewildered.

She looked at him with wide eyes, then nodded shakily, taking a deep breath in attempt to calm herself down. She could barely register what had just happened.

Ron glanced over his shoulder, trying to work out who it was that had run into him. "Was that _Zabini_? What was chasing him? He looked like there were a dozen Dementors hot on his heels."

Hermione nodded again. "Yeah. It was Blaise." She looked rather pale and Ron was a little worried.

As he moved closer, Ron narrowed his eyes. He hadn't hurt Hermione or anything, had he? Ron was perfectly prepared to go after him and exact some revenge if he had. "Are you _sure_ you're alright?" he demanded. "You look a bit… ruffled. Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing? You didn't get hit with a stray spell or anything, did you?" Hermione did not say anything, but even Ron could see the tears that were threatening to spill; he wrapped his arms around her, her head resting against his shoulder.

"He kissed me." Hermione's words were muffled by Ron's robes, but her voice was still choked. Ron hugged her closer, gently stroking her hair and more than a bit surprised that this didn't feel as awkward as he thought it would. Still, he wasn't sure why Hermione was so upset about this. But, if Hermione was upset about what had happened, then so was he. It was as simple as that.

"Let me just go get my watch," he said softly, "then we can go back to Gryffindor Tower and moan about our Slytherins, okay?" Ron felt rather than saw her nod.

"Okay," she mumbled.

The Room of Requirement had turned into a very small space, barely big enough for one person to stand in; there was no reason for it to be any bigger. Ron stooped down and picked up his watch, his other hand clasping around a box of tissues that had also appeared. He turned to a sombre-looking Hermione. "We're going to need these, are we?"

She stared at the tissues for a moment. "Probably," she agreed in a small voice, trying not to cry. She hated being so emotional like this. Why didn't the boys ever cry? All they did was shout and storm off. They were strangers to blotchy eyes and runny noses.

Ron slung a friendly arm around her shoulders. "Come on, then. I happen to know that Ginny has a stash of chocolate we can raid." He grinned at her. "There's nothing that chocolate can fix."

"I feel a bit sick."

"Except that."

Back in the Gryffindor common room, they found Harry on a couch in the corner. After Ron had garnered as much chocolate as possible, he started handing it out. Hermione smiled, finding Harry's arm slipping around her shoulder. She sighed, breaking off a square of chocolate; the slight queasiness that she had felt had quickly subsided once she had reached the security of the common room. "Do we attract trouble and bad luck?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "We're like magnets for those sorts of things."

"We must like punishment," Ron agreed with a nod. "Falling for Slytherins like this." He eyed Harry carefully. "You haven't fallen for one too, have you? I think bad luck is suppose to happen in threes."

"I haven't fallen for him!" Hermione protested through a mouthful of chocolate. Honestly. It was just some sort of animal attraction and sleep deprivation or something. There was no 'falling' involved whatsoever.

A blush rose on Harry's cheeks, but he shook his head.

Ron sighed. "All this secrecy is doing my head in." He lowered his voice. "Pansy wants to… she wants to have a 'serious chat' about our relationship."

"About what?" Harry asked, breaking off a piece of chocolate.

Shrugging, Ron admitted that he wasn't quite sure. "I think I might have been neglecting her a bit," he said after a moment of consideration. "You know, since we started up the DA again. I've had a lot of things to do." He popped a square of chocolate into his mouth, chewing. "I don't want it to end. I really like her."

"Ron," Hermione said slowly. "If you're so worried about your relationship, why are you up here eating chocolate with us when you could be spending time with Pansy?"

His eyes widened and he thrust the bar of chocolate at Hermione, nearly dropping it in her lap. "I should go." Ron scrambled for his shoes, which he had kicked off earlier. "Um, don't wait up for me or anything like that."

Harry laughed. "We won't. No need to worry about that."

As Ron all but fell out of the portrait hole, Hermione dissolved into laughter. Harry looked at her curiously. "Are you okay now?"

Hermione held up the bar of chocolate. "This helps." Harry gave her a quick squeeze.

"What are you going to do about Blaise?"

"Ignore him and hope that he goes away?" Hermione suggested, wiping her eyes with one of the tissues with which the Room of requirement had provided them.

Harry shook his head, pushing up his glasses. "I don't think that's going to happen. Slytherins have a tendency to stick around like bad stains - they work their way into the fabric of our lives and, once they do, they're impossible to get out."

* * *

When Blaise barrelled into the Slytherin common room, Millicent cast a crafty Tripping Jinx. Simple spells like that could be highly effective, not to mention rather amusing. It was quite funny to see the normally graceful Blaise Zabini sprawled out on the common room floor.

"Hey. Where's the fire?"

Blaise glared at her. "I don't want to talk about it." He pushed his hair out of his eyes, then scrambled up from the floor.

"Talk about what?" She raised her eyebrows, pointing her wand at him. Millicent was fully prepared to hex him if he didn't start talking. Blaise didn't like to run, so his speedy entrance into the common room was giving her concern.

He huffed, straightening his robes and brushing them down. First, he had actually _run_, which wasn't like him at all, and then he had been knocked to the floor. Added to The Thing that had just happened, things really weren't going his way. Blaise narrowed his eyes at the sight of Millicent's wand, knowing perfectly well how quick she was with it. "Fine. I kissed Granger."

"About bloody time." She grinned, preparing to tease him about it.

"Don't say that," Blaise growled, running a hand through his hair.

Millicent frowned in confusion. This wasn't the reaction that she'd expected Blaise to have after he finally kissed Granger. "You're not pleased?"

"Do I _look_ pleased?"

"Not particularly."

Slowly and somewhat hesitantly, Millicent lowered her wand. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to talk about it?"

"Positive."

* * *

As Pansy sat down on the bench, Delilah hopped up onto her lap. Pansy idly started rubbing her cat's pregnant belly, looking up expectantly at Ron. "So, are you going to sit down or what?"

"Er, yeah." Ron sat down next to her, scratching his nose and feeling uncomfortable around her for the first time in quite a while. Since they had been together, there had always been a sort of calming influence on him when she was around. The threat of possibly losing that was worrying him. Ron didn't like being worried.

"Is there any particular reason why you dragged me out of my nice warm common room?"

Ron frowned at Pansy's disgruntled tone. "I… I thought you wanted to talk. You know, about… us. And stuff."

She sighed, scratching Delilah's ears; the cat purred contentedly. "Do we have to do this now, Ron? I'm exhausted. I just want to curl up in bed with a book."

"Now's as good a time as any, isn't it?" He shifted closer to her, slipping his arm around her shoulders when he saw her shiver.

Pansy's eyes widened. "Ron!" she hissed, squirming away from him. "Anyone could see us. Take your arm _off_ me." Sitting in the courtyard like this, anyone could walk through on their way back to their common room.

Ron closed his eyes and then reluctantly removed his arm, hoping that neither of them would start shouting or anything like that. "That," he said finally, "is what is killing our relationship. Everything has to be in secret. And I hate it."

Pansy was silent, gently stroking Delilah's white fur. She chewed on her lip, thinking about the situation. Giving Delilah a gentle push, she said, "Go on, Delilah. Go back to the common room. Mummy wants to talk to Ron in private." The cat jumped from her lap, turning to give them what could only be described as a look of disdain, if it were possible for a cat to do such a thing. Pansy cautiously put her hand on Ron's knee.

"I think you're right," she admitted after a moment.

Ron covered her hand with his, nodding. It wasn't often that a member of the opposite sex told him that he was right; for a moment, he allowed himself to wallow in the novelty of it before turning his attention back to Pansy.

"In public, you can only spend time with people like Potter and Granger. I _know_ you don't fancy either of them or anything, but… I get a bit jealous. We can't spend time together like other couples."

Nodding in agreement, Ron said, "And it's not just us, is it? All these stupid house divides are keeping people apart." He laughed humourlessly. "Never thought I'd hear myself saying that."

"It's definitely not just us, either," Pansy continued. "For a start, I think we all know that Granger and Blaise would be permanently attached if they weren't in Gryffindor and Slytherin. I would have thought that Granger would be brave enough to cross the divide." Pansy sighed. "You're a bad influence on me, Ron. You've got me wanting to help people." She scowled at him. "Next thing you know, I'll be wanting to do charity work or something."

Ron grinned. He took her hand in his, entwining their fingers and squeezing gently. "You've got a plan?"

She nodded, warily. "I think so. Just… you _might_ end up getting hexed."

"Okay."

Pansy blinked in surprised, gaping at him. "You'd get hexed for me?"

"Yeah."

Her arms flew round him in a tight hug. "That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me!"

* * *

Deciding to leave the crossword until later, Hermione flipped over the page of her copy of the _Daily Prophet_. There wasn't anything particularly newsworthy at the moment and they seemed to be dragging out a load of personal interest stories about sick pets. Failing that, they stuffed in a load of articles on sordid celebrity affairs, detailing the sex lives of the rich and brainless.

"Can you pass the pumpkin juice?"

Hermione looked up at Harry's request and nodded, reaching for the jug. She gave a grunt of annoyance as Ron knocked her arm as he jumped up from the table. "Careful, Ron," she warned sharply, glaring as she passed the jug to Harry.

Ron didn't reply, though, obviously heading somewhere important. He had the same look of grim determination on his face as he did when he was playing chess. Hermione frowned, looking at Harry. "Where's he going?"

Shrugging, Harry poured his drink. "Dunno. Looks like he's in a bit of a rush, though."

Hermione swivelled in her seat to watch Ron. It looked like he was… "Oh, no," she breathed. Following Hermione's line of sight, Harry echoed her sentiment with an added profanity.

As she had entered the Great Hall, Ron had intercepted Pansy on her way to the Slytherin table. They seemed to be talking; Pansy nodded and Ron lowered his head, kissing her. Hermione cringed, watching in horror. The Great Hall went strangely quiet. No-one quite seemed to know what to do or say. The Hufflepuffs were looking from the couple to each other, clearly stunned. The Slytherins were blatantly staring. The Ravenclaws were all politely trying to ignore them. All expect Luna Lovegood, who was obviously engrossed in a copy of _The Quibbler _- she probably wouldn't have noticed if her magazine caught fire, so engrossed was she in what she was reading.

Hermione could see Millicent physically restraining Daphne from clapping. "Are they ever going to stop?" Harry hissed in a low voice from across the table. The rest of the Gryffindors were starting to murmur among themselves, the rest of the students starting to snap out of their stunned state.

Biting her lip, Hermione wasn't sure what to say. "Ron… has a very large lung capacity."

"That's not helping, Hermione." Harry sounded quite nervous. "Should we do something?"

"Like what? Stop them? Applaud?"

"Maybe we could stop Malfoy from hexing them?" Harry was right - the blond wizard had drawn his wand, apparently ready to curse Ron and Pansy. The reason for Pansy dumping him was now very obvious.

Hermione sighed. "That might be a good idea." Seeing Malfoy rise from his seat and start towards the couple, Hermione grabbed her wand, casting a discreet Tripping Jinx. Malfoy went sprawling across the floor with a yell, his wand flying from his hand.

Harry grinned at her. "Nice one."

"Thank you." Seeing Ron and Pansy break apart and make a hasty exit, Hermione motioned to Harry, standing up.

"Where are we going."

"Following them."

Grabbing a piece of toast, Harry took long strides to catch up with Hermione's quick pace. "Where are we going?" Ron and Pansy had disappeared from sight. "Where do you think they went? The Room of Requirement?"

She cast a withering glance at Harry over her shoulder. "Ron hasn't eaten any breakfast yet. Where do you _think_ he's gone?"

"Ah. The kitchens."

"Exactly."

* * *

Pulling her along by the hand, Ron led a giggling Pansy into the kitchens. He gave a guffaw of laughter as the door swung shut behind them, nearly tripping over a house elf that was scurrying past with an empty saucepan. This just made him laugh harder, his face turning red with exertion.

"Did you _see_ their faces?"

"Did you see _Malfoy_?" Pansy's giggles were somewhat hysterical. "He tripped over his own feet." She sighed, sobering. "When do you think it'll be safe for me to go back to my common room?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't know how popular I'll be, either. Maybe we could set up another house or something."

Frowning in thought, Pansy nearly jumped a foot to the left when a house elf appeared beside her, offering up a plate stacked with toast. "Er, thanks." Pansy took a piece a little nervously. She knew how to deal with the house elves at home, but there was always a certain trepidation about how to treat elves that belonged to other people. The house elf looked slightly taken aback at being thanked, but flashed a toothy smile and left quickly.

Pansy chewed her toast slowly. "Do you think we did the right thing?"

Ron, who had managed to beg a bacon sandwich from a passing elf, shrugged. "I don't know. I hope so. It was your idea."

She scowled. "Don't turn it back on me if this all goes wrong."

He held up his hands in surrender. "I won't. Promise." Ron reached for Pansy's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's all going to be fine. I mean, _yeah_, we might get hexed. And, _yeah_, people are probably going to be talking about us for weeks. But… someone will do something and take all the attention off us. They always do in this school."

"That's true," Hermione remarked, having arrived in the kitchens to hear the end of Ron's speech. "Although this is pretty big news."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "You could have at least warned us that you were going to do that."

"Hey!" Ron swallowed his mouthful of bacon and bread. "I don't have to tell you every time I want to kiss my girlfriend." Pansy blushed furiously at this.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Please don't start fighting."

"We're not," Harry and Ron retorted.

Shrugging, Hermione glanced at Pansy. "I'm guessing this was your idea?"

"Why wouldn't Ron have thought of this?" Pansy retorted. The two girls looked at each other for a moment and simultaneously broke into laughter.

Ron huffed in annoyance, glaring at Harry when he saw his friend grin. "Well," he said. "I suppose you and Zabini don't have any excuse now."

Hermione stopped laughing, gaping at Ron. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to find the words to respond to this. Her cheeks flooded with colour. "We're not talking about that, Ron," she said stiffly before she turned on her heel and fled the kitchens.

Pansy looked from the door to Ron. "What was that about?"

"I shouldn't really tell you," Ron admitted.

Pansy pinched his arm. "Tell me." She ignored Harry's bark of laughter, but Ron glanced to his friend for advice. Harry nodded.

"They kissed."

Copying Hermione's earlier expression, Pansy gaped for a moment. "Oh. Blaise didn't tell me that." Her looked of surprise was replaced by one of cunning. "I suppose we're going to have to sort them out next."


End file.
